


The Fault of Flying

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, Castiel in the Bunker, Didn't Know They Were Dating, First Kiss, Fluff, Human Castiel, Hunter Castiel, Insomnia, Insomniac Castiel, Love Confessions, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, World Travel, reverse verse, reverse!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: Insomnia can make trying to fall asleep an incredibly frustrating endeavor, and for the human Castiel, it is.Luckily for him, his best friend is an angel with the ability to take him anywhere in the world when the nights get rough, and it makes everything more interesting!And more confusing.





	The Fault of Flying

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [whelvenwings](http://whelvenwings.tumblr.com) for being an amazing beta (as usual) :)
> 
> I'm over at [thebloggerbloggerfun](http://thebloggerbloggerfun.tumblr.com) if you're interested!

Castiel had trouble sleeping.

It wasn’t a new thing - it was a burden he’d carried from childhood into adulthood, and it didn’t seem like it was going to be starring in a disappearing act anytime soon.

Fortunately, it paired well with the hunting lifestyle that he’d gotten into in his teenage years; it meant that he slept lightly, and sometimes could go for days on just a few hours of shut-eye while staking out a vampire’s nest.

The only times it really bothered him was when he had no new case to solve, no odd murders to investigate, no adrenaline rush - and yet sleep still eluded him.

Castiel tossed and turned in his bed, closing his eyes tightly and willing his brain to shut off long enough for him to fall unconscious, but no such luck. He’d counted sheep, gone through breathing exercises, and tried counting down from one hundred, and here he was.

Staring up at the ceiling, wide awake.

He pursed his lips, frustrated at his situation, before remembering the Warm Milk remedy he’d read about online once. It sounded entirely made-up by a naturalist suburban housewife from Michigan, but anything was worth a try at this point.

Throwing the blanket off himself, Castiel tugged on the slippers that he’d purchased recently after a mishap where he’d burst through the bunker’s kitchen door in the middle of the night, slipped in his socks, and banged his head on the wall - just before realizing the strange noise he’d been hurrying to investigate was Dean making a smoothie in the kitchen.

Castiel scratched at the back of his head as he walked into the kitchen, pausing as he squinted at the other person currently occupying the room at three in the morning, sitting at the table and munching on bacon.

“I thought you said you weren’t the one eating my bacon,” Castiel muttered, rolling his eyes as he walked over and pulled an old mug out of the cupboard.

“Well, I wasn’t at the exact time when you asked me,” Dean said, seemingly unapologetic as he shoved another strip into his mouth. Castiel threw him an exasperated look, and Dean shrugged, offering him a winning smile. “I thought that it was obvious, seeing as Sam doesn’t eat, and is doing some heavenly mission right now.”

“ _You_ don’t eat,” Castiel said, tugging the fridge open a little more forcefully than was necessary and pouring himself some milk.

“I don’t _need_ to eat,” Dean corrected, “Doesn’t mean I don’t. Food is fucking good, dude, and there’s no way I’m missing out on it.”

Castiel rolled his eyes as he faced away from Dean and placed the mug in the microwave.

“Nice kicks,” Dean said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

Castiel looked down at the pink and white rabbit-shaped slippers that he currently had on his feet.

“They were on sale.”

“Sure they were.”

Sixty silent seconds passed as Castiel stared at the spinning mug, hoping that the hum of the microwave would lull him into a peaceful trance, and sighing when the timer finally beeped.

“So, what are you doing up?” Dean asked when Castiel finally pulled up a chair next to him. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Can’t.” He took a sip of the milk, grimacing when he realized he’d left it in for too long. “Haven’t really been able to for a while.”

Dean chuckled and offered the last piece of bacon out to Castiel, who shook his head.

“You’ll sleep eventually,” Dean said, patting him on the shoulder once. “‘Cause you’ll die if you don’t.”

Castiel only glared back.

Dean stretched his arms over his head with a pleased hum.

“Any late night plans, then?” he asked, side-eying Castiel.

Castiel shrugged and lifted his cup of hot milk.

“Currently, the plan consists of hoping this will make me tired.”

“Or,” Dean said, as he dropped his arms back down onto the table and rested his head on them so he was still facing Castiel, “you could stay up with me - the guy who _never_ sleeps - ‘cause otherwise I’ll have to entertain myself like I usually do for the whole night.”

Castiel made a disgusted face and raised a hand to block his view of Dean.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Dean scoffed and put a hand on his heart as he sat back up.

“You flatter my stamina. Which is fair, ‘cause it’s amazing.” Dean got up from his seat and tossed his plate into the sink before cracking his neck. “Right. Well, I’m off to Scotland. Wanna join?”

“What?” Castiel blinked, still holding the mug in his hand, not sure if he’d heard correctly.

“You can’t sleep, I can’t sleep -” Dean pointed at the two of them. “It’s daytime in Scotland right now and it’s beautiful this time of year.”

Castiel gaped at him.

“You go to Scotland while I’m asleep?”

“Only sometimes.” Dean shrugged his shoulders. “Other times I go to London or the Grand Canyon or Indonesia or that really cool cave I found in Argentina like three hundred years ago.”

Dean held out a hand in Castiel’s direction and jerked his head.

“Are you coming or what? I can bring you back if you get tired.”

Castiel looked at the offered hand and brought his gaze back up to Dean’s face before sighing. What did he have to lose? He wasn’t going to be getting to sleep here, so he might as well spend his night with an angel in Scotland.

Why the hell not?

Reaching forward, Castiel took Dean’s outstretched hand in his own, raising an eyebrow when Dean smiled.

“Hang tight,” he said, almost mischievously, and before Castiel could ask what Dean meant, he was pitched violently forward. A brief feeling of falling rapidly hit him like a punch to the gut, and Dean’s hand was the only thing keeping him gripped to reality - and then he gasped in a breath as everything stopped.

Luckily, Dean’s grip was still tight on his hand as he stumbled a little onto green grass, and he felt a pat on his back.

“Under the weather, you know how it is,” he heard Dean say.

He looked up to see Dean waving at a… tourist?

A quick glance around quickly made him realize that he was definitely _not_ in Kansas anymore. There were green rolling hills surrounding him in almost every direction and what looked to be castle ruins were directly in front of them, and a dozen or so people were milling around taking pictures.

“Urgh,” he managed to say, his stomach complaining loudly about the treatment it had just received.

“Don’t worry, you get used to it really fast.” Dean helped steady him before taking in a dramatic breath of air and exhaling. “I love this place.”

Castiel shook off the motion sickness faster than he thought he’d be able to, the feeling fading when he was distracted by the view - he had to admit that it was stunning. Though the fact that he was now wandering the beautiful Scottish countryside in a ratty t-shirt, pyjama pants, and bunny slippers did ruin the experience a bit.

“Next time, remind me to get dressed for this,” Castiel mumbled, but walked forward towards the ruins that everyone seemed to be so interested in. Tourists had seen weirder things than his sleep attire before.

“Next time?” Dean asked, nudging Castiel with with his shoulder.

Castiel shot Dean a long look.

“ _Maybe.”_

The two of them walked forward until they reached an overlook on the edge of the hill, looking out towards the shining lake.

“This woulda been better at sunrise. Too bad we missed that by a little bit.” Dean leaned on the ledge, and Castiel found himself staring. Dean’s eyes matched the color of the hills behind him, and his smile was bright and genuine. “Good thing there’ll be a next time.”

“So.” Castiel shook his head and cleared his throat, staring out towards the water and purposefully ignoring that last statement. “You and Sam just travel the world while I’m asleep?”

Dean tilted his head from side to side.

“Sorta. Sam usually just checks in with Heaven and stuff like that. He read the Bunker’s library in a single night.” Dean cleared his throat. “It took me two nights, but I get bored easily. Did you know there’s also a hoard of magazines? Anyway, yeah. I like to explore. It’s a big world with lots to do and I wanna do it all.”

Castiel hummed his response.

“And one of those things is to figure out if the Loch Ness Monster exists.”

“Wait, what?”

Dean clapped his hands together excitedly and rolled his shoulders.

“You don’t _know?_ ” Castiel asked in disbelief. Dean was an _angel,_ for God’s sake.

“Nope. I was made a little after the creation of the world so I missed out on that part and never got around to asking.” Dean grinned and held up a finger. “Be back in just a second.”

And Dean vanished.

Castiel whipped his head around, looking for any sign of the angel, but he didn’t appear to be anywhere around the castle; and then, as suddenly as Dean had disappeared, he was back again - sopping wet.

“Okay, good to know.” Dean shook his head like a dog - water spraying everywhere - while Castiel gaped at him.

“Did you go _in_ the lake?” Castiel said, taking a step back in a belated attempt to avoid getting water on himself.

“Duh.” Dean paused, snapped his fingers, and he was dry again. “Where else was I gonna look for a _Lake_ Monster?”

Castiel folded his arms against his chest, waiting for Dean to fill him in on the discovery.

“Well?”

An innocent smile was all he got in return.

“Well what, Cas?”

“Does the Loch Ness Monster exist or not?”

Dean reached out and patted Castiel on the cheek with a pitying shake of the head.

“Oh, Cas. That’s not knowledge for humans to have.”

Castiel knocked his hand aside in a huff while Dean laughed loudly.

“You are the worst.”

“I know.” Dean slung an arm over his shoulder and walked them back down the way they came. “But you love it.”

And Castiel couldn’t say anything to the contrary.

The two of them sat side-by-side on the shoreline of Loch Ness, the warm breeze tousling their hair - and Castiel felt the soothing sound of water lapping against the rocks deep in his bones, slowly sapping the wired energy out of him.

“How old are you, Dean?” Castiel asked, stifling a yawn. It was a question he’d never asked before, but one that he thought about every time Dean alluded to events long in the past that he’d seen or been a part of.

There was a long pause from the angel as he grabbed a nearby rock and tossed it into the water with a small splash.

“I don’t know exactly. I lost count.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Old, I guess? But Sam and me are some of the younger of the angels so it doesn’t feel like I’m all that old.”

Castiel nodded slowly. It wasn’t new information to him - it was just odd to have it confirmed.

Dean was old.

“Does that… bother you?”

Castiel shook his head, and finally gave into a yawn.

“Okay then, sleepypants. Let’s get you home,” Dean said, and helped Castiel up into a standing position before wrapping an arm around his waist, and this time - the jolt wasn’t as bad.

***

Another night, another aggravating attempt at sleep.

Castiel had already spent two hours staring up at the ceiling and listening to the various creaks and moans that the bunker created in the dead of night, and he was ready to admit defeat once again.

While he and Dean hadn’t _officially_ said there would be a next time, maybe he could catch him before the angel blinked away to whatever country he was going to tonight.

He let out a long sigh and sat up, pausing to put on a set of real shoes before opening the door of his bedroom - only to have Dean stumble forwards, from a position that seemed suspiciously like he’d had his ear pressed to the door, listening.

“What are you doing?”Castiel said, in more of a blunt tone than a questioning one.

Dean cleared his throat as he straightened back up.

“I was gonna see if you wanted to go with me again, and I was trying to hear if you were still asleep.” Dean folded his arms in front of his chest. “I wasn’t being creepy.”

“Couldn’t you just have popped in and popped out really fast to see?” Castiel raised an eyebrow as he moved past Dean and headed down the hallway.

“Now _that_ would have been creepy. I don’t know what you do at night.”

“I’m very boring.”

Castiel grabbed his trenchcoat from the hall closet and tugged it on, turning to Dean with an expectant look.

“Well. Where to?”

Dean’s face split into a wide grin.

“Estonia.”

Dean reached forward, gripping Castiel’s hand with a squeeze that made Castiel’s heart jump, and then the world jumped with it. It was getting easier now after the third time he’d teleported with Dean. He found that if he focused on Dean’s hand against his own, he could right himself a lot faster than he would if he let his mind flail about.

Teleporting.

Was that even the right word for it?

_Flying._

Solid ground grew around his feet, and the glare of sudden sunlight made him blink rapidly, taking in the salty scent of the wide ocean in front of him as a light breeze blew in his face.

“It’s beautiful,” Castiel murmured, watching a gull fly by and head out towards the waves. “You said this is Estonia?”

Dean hummed his confirmation, squeezing Castiel’s hand again lightly.

They hadn’t let go yet.

“Are you searching for the Loch Ness Monster here, too?” Castiel asked, only partially kidding, as he wouldn’t put anything past Dean.

“Nope.” Dean finally let go of Castiel’s hand to reach into both of his jacket pockets, pull out two large plastic bags, and shake them in front of Castiel’s face with a hopeful grin. “Ever been beachcombing?”

The next hour or so was spent walking up and down the Estonian coastline and collecting various shells, pieces of sea glass, and rocks, as well as attempting to dump bits of wood and seaweed into the other’s bag without getting caught.

Mostly unsuccessfully.

“You should give me some advance notice before we come to a place like this,” Castiel mused, watching the tide glide along the ground and up towards his feet. “I could have brought a swimming suit and gone in the water.”

“Oh _, Cas_ ,” Dean said, and there was something roguish about his tone that made Castiel look over in alarm. “You don’t need a swimming suit to get in the water.”

“No.” Castiel held out a finger and began walking backwards. “No, Dean. Don’t you dare.”

Dean stalked towards him, easily grabbing Castiel around the waist despite his attempts to evade capture, and cradled him against his chest bridal-style as he waded into the waves.

“ _Dean!”_

“And a one, and a two, and a _three!”_

Dean tossed Castiel into the ocean - a lot further than a normal human would ever have been able to - and his laughter was the last thing Castiel heard before water engulfed him.

It was _cold._

Despite the impressive shot put, when Castiel stood up the water was only up to about his lower chest, and he glared as he stalked back out of the ocean towards Dean - the trenchcoat growing heavier and heavier the further he got out of the water.

Dean let Castiel stomp right up in front of him and stare daggers at him from inches away.

“You’re going to find yourself trapped in a holy oil circle sometime _very_ soon, Dean,” Castiel said with a scowl and held out his arms. “Now make me dry.”

“Aw,” Dean said, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. “But you look just like a grumpy, soggy cat.”

“ _Dean -”_

“Alright, alright.” Dean held out two fingers and pressed them to Castiel’s forehead, instantly drying out all of the clothing Castiel was wearing, but leaving his hair wet. “Compromise.”

Castiel yawned as he shook out the excess water on his head. That was probably the best that he was going to coax out of Dean.

“Tired?” Dean asked, something akin to fondness in his voice, but that was probably a mishearing on Castiel’s part, as he still had water in his ears.

“I suppose.” Castiel yawned again, reluctant to accept the inevitable. “Yes. You should probably take me home.”

“Shouldn’t a wavelength of celestial intent buy you a drink first?” Dean teased, holding out the bag of knick-knacks Castiel had collected previously.

“Ha ha,” Castiel said flatly, though he busied himself with tying off the bag so he wouldn’t have to look Dean in the eyes. “I think a vacation in Estonia is roughly equal to a drink at a bar.”

“Nice.” Dean winked and held out his hand. “You’re going along with my jokes, which means you _must_ be tired.”

Castiel grunted noncommittally and took Dean’s hand.

“Or you’ve just worn me down after all these years, and I’ve finally cracked.”

Dean snorted as he interlaced his fingers with Castiel’s.

“You’re too stubborn to crack, Cas.”

The world spun again, and Castiel was only partially sure that it was the fault of flying.

***

The numbers on the analog clock on the desk next to him kept getting higher, the longer Castiel stared at them. That was how clocks worked, of course, but the frustration of wanting to fall asleep could make anything more irritating than it should be.

They’d spent the previous day hunting down a nearby werewolf, and after nearly getting his throat ripped out, sleep would be a welcome comfort to forget yet another near-death experience.

Castiel shifted in his sleep and hit his head back against the pillow.

“So, are you gonna ask me soon, or what?”

Castiel shot up in his bed, hidden gun already in his hand and pointed at the sound of the intruder in the corner of his room, like he’d been trained after years of dealing with the supernatural. He blinked rapidly as the lamp next to his bed switched on automatically to illuminate Dean with his hands up - probably just in a gesture of good faith, as a bullet wouldn’t do much to him.

“Sorry, I got bored of waiting.”

“Jesus _Christ_ \- why are you in my room?” Castiel demanded, setting down the gun and wiping at his eyes as they adjusted to the light.

“I’m actually Dean, his half-brother. Easy mistake, though.” Dean dropped his hands and stepped forward. “And for the record, you _told_ me I could come in your room, remember?”

“I _said_ you could pop in and pop out really quick to check if I was asleep.” Castiel flopped backwards back into his bed and let the adrenaline pumping through his body run its course. “Never mind. It’s fine.”

“Great.” Dean sat on the edge of Castiel’s bed and held out a hand with a smile of anticipation. “Ready to go?”

Castiel glared at him for a few moments, then let out a sigh. There wasn’t really a point in pretending to be mad at him; it wasn’t as if he’d been on the brink of sleep, anyway.

“What should I get dressed for?” he asked, swinging around and getting out of bed.

“Ever been to Italy?”

***

Castiel had done more travelling in the past month than he’d ever done in his entire life up to this point, and the best part was - he never had to experience the jet lag.  

Their exploits had taken them far and wide.

Enjoying gelato and a parade, in Siena.

A race to the top of the Eiffel tower (No Angel Powers Allowed).

Exploring a Greek bookstore.

Wandering along the Great Wall of China.

Sitting on top of the Egyptian Sphinx (with Castiel _immediately_ asking to go elsewhere, as he didn’t want to be responsible for more harm done to it).

Wine tasting in Florence.

Visiting Dog Island in Japan.

And every new place they went made Castiel feel a little closer to Dean in a different way.

Of course he’d spent time with Dean before this - with the end of the world, the hunting, the friendship in general - but he and Sam left every once in a while, and things had never felt settled. Now, it was just the two of them spending a few hours together at least three times a week.

It didn’t happen every night. Sometimes Castiel managed to fall asleep without an excursion - and sometimes Dean wouldn’t be around that night, but either way Castiel had to admit that he looked forward to his nightly escapades with Dean a lot more than he’d thought he would. They were. . . fun. He got to experience new things through his own eyes _and_ through the eyes of an angel, which was always a unique point of view. Barring God himself, there wasn’t anyone more qualified to give a Castiel a tour of Earth than the son of the deity himself.

And Castiel was anticipating more.

“Dean?” Castiel stood outside of Dean’s bedroom door - well, the door of the room that was Dean’s, in the bunker - and knocked on it lightly when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “Are you in there?”

He realized, of course, the redundancy of giving a bedroom to a being that didn’t sleep, but if nothing else it was a home base for him - a welcoming gesture. Castiel had hoped he’d use the place to store things, to return to more frequently than he would have otherwise.

Castiel pressed his ear to the door, realizing the hypocrisy of him doing so and ignoring it.

It didn’t sound like anyone was there.

“Dean? Did you want to go somewhere else tonight?”

Castiel turned the doorknob and let himself into Dean’s room, and it looked as empty as it sounded. The room was vacant of almost anything of significance besides the furniture. There was an AC/DC poster on the wall  - a band that Dean had heard and grown fond of - and on the dresser looked to be the bag of miscellaneous items they’d gathered on the beach together. The bed was rumpled; it looked like Dean had sat on it in the past and apparently _not_ used any angel mojo to poof it tidy again - and there was a single magazine lying face-up on the pillow.

Castiel would have ignored it entirely - but he was intrigued by the severe lack of obvious nudity in its pages, unlike he’d be seeing in the kind of magazine he was used to Dean owning.

Picking up the magazine, Castiel frowned as he read the first article title.

_101 Sappy Date Ideas To Do Before You Die_

Castiel raised an eyebrow and continued reading.

 

  * _Take them to the lakeside. Your date will love staring into the shimmering waters almost as much as they’ll love staring into your eyes!_


  * _Go on a romantic walk on the beach! Nothing screams “love” like walking side-by-side, collecting shells with the sound of waves crashing beside you._


  * _Go wine-tasting! Aphrodisiac anyone?_


  * _Tour a famous monument! Now’s the time to impress your date with any knowledge you might have about it._


  * _Is your date the bookish type? Explore a local bookstore!_



 

Castiel stopped reading when he realized his hands were shaking.

Surely, this had to be a coincidence.

An astronomical coincidence of epic proportions.

Dean must have been flipping through the magazine and stumbled upon the list - thinking it was funny that everything he’d done with Castiel seemed to match - _or..._

Castiel hesitantly let his mind linger on that “or”.

He smiled.

***

The stars above them were beautiful - shining brightly, as they remained unobscured by the lights of any city nearby.

They were lying on their backs at the very top of a pyramid in the Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza, gazing upwards in silence and enjoying the stargazing that Dean had promised.

“Dean,” Castiel said, after what was probably a half an hour of silence.

Dean hummed in acknowledgement.

“Are we dating?”

Castiel glanced over as Dean went utterly still for a long moment.

“Uh, _wha_ \- what are you -” Dean’s stumbling questions came a little too late. “It’s not - _w-well_ -”

He sat up suddenly, turning his back to Castiel.

“I’ve made an idiot out of myself,” he said distantly. “Haven’t I?”

Castiel swallowed. There was a smile that he couldn’t seem to repress pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I… I only asked because... it’s okay if we are.”

There was a pause, and an intake of air.

“It is?”

Dean turned to look at him, and Castiel nodded. It was hard to see his face in the darkness, but Castiel knew Dean well enough to discern the expression.

Bafflement, disbelief, and a little hope.

Castiel slid his hand along the stone until he touched Dean’s, slowly entwining their fingers together.

“It is,” he confirmed, smiling as he turned his gaze from Dean, back up to the stars.

Dean’s hand tightened in his grasp as he slowly laid back down, scooting closer to Castiel as he did so.

“Well, if we’re dating,” Dean said, his voice leaking with bits of elation, “then can I say something sappy?”

Castiel smiled and turned his head to face the angel, who already had an expression on his face like Castiel had told him he could have all the bacon he wanted, forever.

“I’ll allow it this once.”

Dean shifted, drinking in Castiel’s face like he was allowed to.

“I’ve been alive for a long-ass time, Castiel. But, you’re the first thing that’s made me _feel_ alive.” Dean squeezed his hand. “Thanks for that.”

Castiel’s felt his face heat up and was even more grateful for the darkness surrounding them.

“Thank _you,_ Dean. For showing me more in a few years than most people would see in a lifetime.” His smile softened. “And I don’t just mean the travelling.”

Castiel glanced down at Dean’s lips briefly before making the decision and leaning forwards to press a long-overdue kiss on Dean’s lips. And Dean reached a hand up to cup Castiel’s cheek, his touch steady and confident, as he kissed Castiel back.

The Mayan ruins fell into their deep and dark silence once again - until it was broken for the final time that night.

“You know, I can just zap us into your bed if we’re gonna be making out for a little while.”

“I think that’s an excellent plan.”


End file.
